


Mourning

by Mademoiselle_Lumiere



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And there is a very sad puppy in there, Angst, Basically me putting all my feelings in a fic, Canonical Character Death, First War with Voldemort, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Marauders' Era, One Shot, first order of the phoenix, first wizarding war, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 06:48:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11618202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mademoiselle_Lumiere/pseuds/Mademoiselle_Lumiere
Summary: For the first time in a very long time, Remus finds himself friendless again.





	Mourning

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is my first posted fic on this website, I hope you'll like it! Since I'm French and not fluent in English, you may find some mistakes or typically french sentences that make no sense: don't hesitate to point them out in the comments! I write to improve my English, so all corrections are welcomed. :3 (also, if you have advices for html settings... because /ugh/)  
> About this OS: basically, this is a friend of mine's fault. She sent me one of her HP texts and it made me cry, so I decided to make her pay for that (nicely of course, we all love having feels... aha... we're mad). I wrote that in the middle of the night while listening to "I See Fire" by Ed Sheeran, if that interests someone. 
> 
> Anyway I'll stop talking. Enjoy! 
> 
> PS : Warning, French means... commas... commas everywhere... o.o

Remus was sitting in the cellar of his new house, a small cottage he had bought for almost nothing, far from cities and villages. If the whole place looked miserable, this room was probably the worst. The cellar didn’t have any furniture nor decoration, and the walls seemed to be about to collapse at any minute. But he knew they wouldn’t. It was maybe the only reason of his purchase. This room was a prison rather than an actual cellar, old but solid, and a lock in the door would contain him for the night. That is why he was there, sitting on the floor with his arms on his knees and his hands interleaved, waiting for the full moon to rise by the small window near the ceiling.  
In this room, the time always seemed to be longer, stretching to eternity. He had time to think, something that he tried not to do during the day, occupying himself with modest jobs or writings. But the night, always, those thoughts were coming back with force, crashing on him, merciless, and there was nothing he could do about it. This night wasn’t an exception.

# ____________________

He was on a mission for the Order when he had been told. In a few seconds, everything had collapsed. He had fought against the desire to forget everything that was supposed to matter, fly and hide, cry until his own body gave up. But he had always been better than Sirius at controlling himself. So that’s what he had done, despite the pain crushing his chest, despite his vision getting out of focus at every moment, despite the sorrow. People were counting on him. He couldn’t let go. _Not now._

When he had entered the main room of the headquarters, all the eyes had turned towards him. Saddened, compassionate. He hadn’t said anything, hadn’t made a vibrant speech about sacrifice and revenge. He had crossed the room without seeing anyone and gone right to his room. He had closed the door, silently. Carefully.  
Then he had screamed, his back against the hard wood. Like a hurt animal, like the wolf inside him, he had howled for a long time. He had felt anger like never before, an urge to kill at its purest. There was pain, of course, as he was reviewing scenes to which he hadn’t assisted. He couldn’t understand and wasn’t trying to, he couldn’t even think and was just trying to get it out. Maybe, maybe, he could erase the reality, maybe he could change something if the suffering ended. Maybe he could bring them back. But a little part in him, the only piece of his mind that wasn’t chaotic, knew it was real. It was a nightmare and he couldn’t wake up.  
He didn’t know how long he stayed in the room. He had slided to the floor, shaking, his arms wrapped around himself to prevent him from destroying anything. He had this unique way from many years of practice to lock everything inside him and not let it get out, even though it would eventually kill him. When he finally stopped screaming, he was exhausted. His throat was dry and his muscles hurt from the tight cage-like embrace. His dazed amber eyes opened softly, glancing around in the dark and enfolding the loneliness. It was the Shrieking Shack all over again. This time however, nobody stood beside him.

# ____________________

“It’s not… It’s _impossible_. I beg you, Albus, do… Do something.”  
Over his desk, Dumbledore was looking at him with compassion behind his half-moon glasses. Remus knew that look too well. He had come here so often, years before, to find comfort and help with the man who had given him a chance and a life he had never expected. But he hadn’t came here for comfort, not anymore.  
“- You know him. You _know_ it can’t be true.  
\- Remus…  
\- If you could just _listen_ to me!”  
His voice was shaking.  
“- Remus, there are things we cannot change and..  
\- Don’t say that,” he cut off. “Stop acting as if he was guilty, as if I was a lost child who didn’t see anything coming. I’m not.”  
The softness of Dumbledore was driving him mad.  
“- I’m not saying that. You have been moved. But the facts are there: he killed-...  
\- **_SIRIUS WOULD NEVER HAVE BETRAYED JAMES AND LILY!_** ”  
The chair fell with a loud thud. He had yelled, his eyes widen with anger fixed on the Hogwarts’s Headmaster. Why couldn’t he understand? Why could none of them understand?!  
“- Remus. Changing the truth won’t bring them back.  
\- He wouldn’t have betrayed us…”  
_Us_. His voice broke. _Us_. There. There was something about Sirius’s betrayal that hurt him more deeply. _Us_. The fact that all these years where he finally had found happiness weren’t real. _Us_. He kept seeing the ghosts. Sirius, standing in front of him, joking about how miserable Remus was to think he was his friend. It was a whole new pain.  
And the worst part was, everybody seemed to agree on that idea, destroying the last small hope he hung on to, the last small certitude. He had shared a dormitory with Sirius Black for seven fucking years, and yet it seemed he had been wrong all along.

# ____________________

He had said his speech in front of James and Lily’s coffins. During the whole talking, he had kept his eyes on the stone where their names were curved, unable to look at those boxes. He still had a hard time believing they were lying in there. They were not supposed to. He couldn’t do anything but doubt of the reality of the whole scene. He had waited, longed to see James and Sirius jump shouting “ _got you!_ ”. And for the umpteenth time, he had been disappointed.

He had spoken for almost an hour, praising the Potter’s qualities. It was useless. Everybody knew them already.  
They knew James is-, _was_ brave, bold, caring. A good father and one of the best friends he ever had. A friend who would never hesitate to give his life for them. A friend who, though he was privileged, spent seven years with the broken boys they were. A friend who, after a full moon, would come to see him in the sick room, even though it would get him punishments to miss classes. A friend who had spent years trying to become an Animagus, only to make his nights less painful.  
They knew Lily was as brave as her husband. She was smart, bright and kind. The most loving person he’d ever met. She would see beauty in everyone, even those who didn’t see it themselves. When they were at Hogwarts, even before she started dating James, they would talk for endless hours in the library, about everything and nothing, being the total nerds they were. In the Hogwarts Express, she would always keep him a seat beside her in the prefects’ compartment. When he had met Harry for the first time, she had been the one to put the baby in his arms despite his worried protests.  
But the fact was, he had hated to have to speak about them. He had _hated_ to have to speak in the past. He hadn’t been ready to do so.  
When his speech had come to an end, there had been others. And others. Many people had come to say goodbye to the Potters. But many people were missing too. As he was staring into the void, head drowned underwater, he had thought about those missing parts of the painting.  
He had been the last one to stay. When everybody had vanished, he had stood up and walked to the new grave. It was weird. It didn’t seem to be real, as if he was evolving in another reality. Something didn’t fit.  
Once again, he had thought about the ones that should have been here.  
Alice and Frank. He had been the one to tell them. It had to be done, even though the vision of the two of them lying on their beds, their cold eyes unable to notice his presence, had moved him more than he expected.  
But Merlin they weren’t the only ones. They weren’t, and as he was leaving his bouquet on the cold stone, ghosts engulfed his mind. One flower for Marlene. One flower for Dorcas. One flower for Fabian. And another, and another, and another. He realized that the way he had to miss them had changed. It didn’t feel like losses anymore. Now that James, Lily and Peter had gone, now that the Sirius he knew had been erased, it felt more like he was the one staying. He was the one condemned to stay, he was the one who will live with shadows. Once again, he was alone.

# ____________________

He didn’t realize straightaway that he was crying. He bended over, his stomach aching, desperately trying to choke back tears. Was the room really dwarfing? He couldn’t tell, but something was crushing his chest, slowly, preventing him from breathing. _"Make it stop_ , he thought. _Please make it stop."_  
As an answer to his prayers, a shiny white light landed on the floor before him. He greeted with joy the agonizing pain rising with the moon, freeing him for the night of grief.


End file.
